


"As Would I Every Time"

by GarakIsMyTailor



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cardassians, Dominion War (Star Trek), M/M, Star Trek References
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-07-11 00:50:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15961160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GarakIsMyTailor/pseuds/GarakIsMyTailor
Summary: Weeks after Dukat sold his own people into the hands of the Dominion, a tinny civilian ship comes barreling to the station taking heavy fire from Cardassian Forces. Inside the ship are the wounded and tormented; captured Marquee and their sympathizers, poltical prisoners, and also their jailors. Everyone from Natima Lang to Gul Evek, Cal Huson to Rugal are jammed into the cargo bay.They have come to one another in the doubtful hope that they can somehow build a government in exile, and the even more doubtful therefore that, as the highest ranking member of any of the old governments Garak would provide the continuity they need to make themselves appear legitimate. Unfortunately for Elim Garak, no one has informed him of this plan.It is a chance to regained everything he lost, a chance to Free his beloved Cardassia again, and even a chance to go home. If the other members of the newly formed government don't kill him first, or after. If Dukat doesn't send and assignation squad after them all. If they don't destroy one another first.Knowing how to keep a state running or how to reform it is one thing, knowing how to create one is quite another.





	1. A Most Unenjoyable Afternoon

**Author's Note:**

> So- I haven't really written much fanfiction in years, and I think it's been over two decades since I archived it anywhere so I'm really excited about posting here.
> 
> The title comes from the opening sequence of the Deep Space 9 Season 2 episode 18 "Profit and Loss" where Garak insists that he would put the needs of the state over any other loyalty.
> 
> This story takes place a few weeks after "By Inferno's Light" and diverges from cannon from about this point.
> 
> I don't really ship, but Garak does lament having to never the Dr. notice his attraction, a reflect on how even if she were not young enough to be his daughter Ziyal would never be safe if they were togther. If the characters end up wanting something more- any bedroom scenes will fade to black.
> 
> So I don't really have anyone to bata DS9 fanfic right now. I've done my best, however, I am dyslexic and might have missed a few things, like homonyms or other near spellings. However, I won't post any updates I have not gone through thoroughly yet.

Garak was not enjoying his afternoon. It was very difficult to sew anything at all without fabric. “If that freighter caption doesn't show up by this evening,” he told his young companion, “I am going to have to resort to learning to weave it myself.”  
Predictably, as was the case whenever Elim protested too much, his human compatriot looked amused.

  
“You could you know,” the Dr. mused,” The gentle whoosh of a 22 heddle Andorin treadle loom.” The Dr. Moved his head in time with his words. It was one of Bashers most unexpectedly attractive features, how animated he was. Even when the man was mocking him it seldom ceased to amaze. Elim shushed his mind if the man hadn't taken notice of his overt interest in their first meeting, or any successive meal since, the chances were the that the only flirting with intrigue Bashir was interested in was the allegorical kind, But the man was still speaking. “You might find it relaxing, Garak. I’ve seen it done, it’s almost a form of meditation.”  
Now that, that was a challenge, and Garak responded with a derisive laugh, casting a disproving eye towards the Bajoran Shrine, “I think there is quite enough of that going on, on this station already, Dr.”  
“Suit yourself.”

  
He had only brought up his frustrations due to a very uncomfortable lull in the conversation, and he quickly looked for some other topic to cast a word to. That was the problem with humans, once they stopped talking you could not get them to start. He sometimes wondered how that species had managed to evolve enough to produce speech. No wonder their written word was so objectively awful!  
_Well, Basher at least will become fully civilized if it’s the last thing I do._

  
Of course, if Dukat received even one more convoy, Garak wasn’t sure it wouldn't be. He had already thwarted four assassination attempts in the last six weeks, and Elim was starting to suspect Odo was catching on.

  
The had really been no point in contacting the constable, Dukat’s men were amateurs, their method transparent and garish. Rather like the man himself. The so-called Bajoran Resistance would have had a better chance in ending his life wounded bound and semi-continuous then these… street toughs. Still, even the terrorists had had their good days, which was why despite Odo’s edict to the contrary he never entered the promenade without a small sidearm. Not the one Odo knew about, or the smaller one, but a tinny had made energy disruptor, he had cobbled together a few weeks ago. It was only good for about a dozen or so shots, and they would not be immediately lethal- he wanted time to question anyone who came for his life these days. And to express his… annoyance.

  
“I have something for you.” There was something in the Dr.’s eyes that Garak was disinclined to trust. “Shakespeare?” He asked mocking his own disapproval, “Or Rumi, or is it, Joanne Kathleen Rowling, this week?”

“It’s not a book.”

“Oh no?” Garak allowed himself to be a bit more hopeful.

“No. It’s an Opera.”

“And Opera- don’t think I’ve ever heard of a human opera.” _I suppose there is a slight chance that they make better musicians then they do writers_. He mused.

  
“Based on a Book.”

“Of course.”

“By Victor Hugo.”

“Ah yes, the favorite author of our former head of Starfleet security, and presumably long-dead terrorist.”

“The very same book-How do you know Vitor Hugo of all people?”

“Prior to committing treason against the federation, he stopped by my shop to have his collar mended.”

That was perfectly true, he didn’t have the energy to come up with a more convincing lie. _"That was sloppy Elim. If you can’t be bothered to do the job right....”_  
how often had his father told him that?

He turned his attention to other matters before the walls closed in on him. It wasn’t all that hard, with Julian Bashir grinning like a madman.

  
“Another misguided attempt to confuse anarchy with civil freedoms?”

  
“Just listen to the soundtrack, will you Garak? Unless… well, I did bring one other opera. I was going to give it Jadzia but…”

  
He considered letting the man go on trying to be subtle, but really the attempt was so pathetic, even for a human- that he decided for once to be a good friend to the fellow.

  
“Perhaps I’ll just borrow it? And you can give it to her in a few days.”

  
“If you like.”

“And this one is called?”

“Into the woods.”

Garak did not find that a very impressive title and he didn’t even bother to hide that face. What has he brought yet another one with him? _How many data rods can possibly fit into that uniform?_ He allowed himself a few pleasant moments to ponder that thought.

  
“And what is this one about?”

“Hope,”

  
“But of course.” Sometimes he supposes you just had to accept people for who- and what - they were.

  
“And death.” The man when on unexpectedly.”And loss-”

At that very moment, the alerts sounded.

  
“Not Another convoy?” Julian’s distress over road whatever it was he was about to say.

  
“I do hope not,” Garak winced, the convoys came at regular- and therefore in disillusioning intervals. “You know we're coming,” the Dominion was saying, rather artlessly, “and there is nothing you can do to stop it.

“Dr. Basher to Upper Pylon Three!” The Cpaints voice came across the man’s comm.

“And if you see any stay security guards,” The Major was adding over him, “bring them too!”

  
Behind that, he could here Lt Com. Dax’s voice vaguely.  
“That first Cardassian ship is taking a LOT of Damage caption, and - looks like we have another seven coming in close behind.”

  
Elim and the Doctor exchanged looks. “Good thing you have your med kit with you- good luck.”

  
Wand with that he hurried back to his shop to get another weapon.


	2. Blood on the Floor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A ship under fire, a musician who can't stand, a torture technician with a conscience, and a military officer in a nightshirt. Even for Star Fleet, this is a little weird.

Chapter 2  

  
Julian was almost surprised to see to see the ship was still in one piece when he got there. He noted, in a detached manner that it was not a military vessel. It was a small civilian craft, only two or three times the size of a  Runabout. Enough room for four or five people and a cargo bay in the back.   
  
Engineers and security officers were struggling to get the seal to the airlock open on the ship's side. And Bashir found it almost predictable that right as they were about to force it open the stationed rocked as it was hit by firepower.”   


“You know, just once, I’d like to see the Defiant pull up in a Cardassian station and interrupt their Chief of operations the middle of  _ their  _ day .” Chief O'Brien mumbled as he came running in from behind them somehow magically opening the seal without even swaying as the station was hit again.    
  
“We are terribly sorry for the inconvenience.” A voice came from the other side, causing Miles to flush a little. “Our timetable got moved up a bit.” Whoever they were they we in great pain, wheezing although there was no smoke, no one appeared at the airlock but there was the sound of two sets of shuffling feet, and a third pair being practically dragged. 

  
Without out hesitation, he boarded the ship himself, O’brain right behind him, to assess the damage or watch his back, Julian did not know.

  
Three Cardassians met him about five feet away, two of them holding up a fairly sickly fellow between them. None of them _looked_ military at least not until, the ship rocked, apparently still being directly fired upon.  The one on the right who seemed to be clad in his nightshirt and matching set of pants was heavy set but trim and knew to move with the blast, held his bearings as the one on the left fell to the ground, the man in the center fell to the floor landing on his knees - then of all things unslung some sort of stringed instrument off his shoulder and began examining it- as if checking for damage.  
  
Julian hurried over.  
“This man is in need of immediate medical attention.” The one on the left said firmly. It wasn’t an order- but he clearly was in the habit to be obeyed without question. “And Ispen put that away for once!” Like the other,she was clad in civian ware. His face would have been wholely inscrutable if he did not keep looking over his shoulders at the view scaren.

  
“There is no time for that Trinis.” The one on the left said. “If we had better go if we don’t get to him soon…”

  
Julian keep an ear out but focused mostly on his tricoder.   
“No.” the man pushed the tricorder away- gently but firmly. “I can still walk at least a little. We have w---wond-unded in the b-back-” the man started hacking so hard, that it was a wonder that he hadn’t cracked a rib.  “They are all in bad shape, I can last,” he looked at the others. “At least till we speak to him and Berkoll is right we need to at least warn him."  
  


The Fellow on the left nearly dropped his companion in furry, _“T_ _ hey most certainly are not! I saw to their safety my self!”  _

The others stared at him as if in shock, the man shut his eyes to took a deep breath and in a moment had regained his composer- yet somehow the way his anger drained if made him look terrifying now, his face stirn and cold, he did not need to move a mussel for Juain to recoil, just the faintest bit, and his wounded companion started to shake but met his eye.   
  


“We know Trinis. We know, but can you vouch for all your men? ALL you're agents?” the one Name Brekoll asked. His voice was calm and steady, as if nothing can could surprise him.

  
“I’ll do my own trige please.” He said simply looking at the frail man over again. The fellow regarded him thoughtfully, like a musician trying to read his aunance in a tavern, trying to assess what songs would bring lattum and which would  bring jeers _or maybe_ Julian reflected looking to his eyes. _What songs will get him run out of town all together._ “I am sure you know you're work better than I ,” the musician,  insisted. “But there are more important things at stake. I suspect judging from the security officers you have there that you’ll be wanting to talk to us, you can look me over then. But your station is in danger every moment we are kept from our task.”

  
Juilan looked a his scans doubtfully, trying not to grimace- there was evidence of torture here- as he might have suspected from their conversation, but not all the it was recently, indeed some of it seems to span back decades, but he must have been really healthy at some point recently or he wouldn't be alive now.

  
If it was this Trinis fellow that inflticked it, however then he was true to his words nothing done to him- in its own right-would be life threatening at all, but there was evidence of years of abuse and internal injuries from whatever firefight they had gotten into.  
  
“You have internal organ damage, massive internal bleeding, massive external bleeding…”  
  
The one called Trinis looked away, there seemed to be a glimmer of shame in his eyes. But Ispen ignored them both “Will I die anhy time in the next twenty minutes?”  


“What - well no i suppose not-”

“The two of us will go.” Brkoll said firmly. You can stay with the others- play your... that” he point at the strings. “Keep them calm like you did on the trip.

  
“No.” Ispen’s voice was soft but it had an edge. “I’m going with you. That was the plan.

  
“You heard the man Uvane!” A surname? Or a first name? Or and insult? Trinis certainly said it with enough veniment. “You are dead on your feet.”   
  
Somehow the fellow managed to pull himself up to a nearby consol. “We had a plan. And you still need me.”

  
“You're no good to anyone dead.” Brekoll snapped back as Julian tried to get a better assessment of the damage, the man seemed finally to be losing his calm now.   


“Damn you both! You OWE me this.” Ispen (or was it Isben? Now that he thought about it it could have been Isben, the three had a subtle but pristatnt accent, and Juialn could not be sure.) pivoted towards Trinis. “Now I’ve gone along with **everything** elce. Because I owed you. I’d do it all again too, but you owe me this Trinis Vemor. You Both do.”

His companions exchanged glances.  The three seemed to be engaging in some sort of power struggle via- staring contest.   
  
“Very well,” said Tranis Vemor. “But if you collapse on the way we are leaving you. If you slow us down too much we are leaving you.  And as soon as we done-   
  
“As soon as were done we’ll either be in dead or in custody.” Brekoll put in.  The other two laughed aloud suddenly as if they were all old friends. “And I suppose it could be worse.” Trinis added.   
  
“Worse than an being walking into a Bajoran hornets nest  with all of us wounded and under fire?” as Bekoll pulling Isben up one one powerful movement.    
  
“Oh yes,” said Isben the strings of his instrument twanging slightly. “We could have fired back.”   
  


That seemed to sober them all up. Julian ran to the cargo bay as the others were leaving 30 or so people were sprawled around sitting or lying down, some bleeding some concused, not of them in good shape- but for the most part still very much alive.    
  
But it was who these people were that got his attention. The youngest fellow could not have been more than 15, a snarling human looking at him wide eyed and distasteful. “You left us to die! You and starfleet” he hiss drawing back when Jualin  drew near.   
  
“Once a terrorist always a terrorist.” answered a Cardassian woman only a little older than him, maybe nineteen.

  
They glared at one another and then relaxed a litte. Further down he saw worst injuries- some were quite brutal, some looked like they were caused from plasma burns or being smacked in too bulkheads, and many should the unmistakable marks of torture. 

Not just the non Cardassians, most of the damage that had been done, had been done to their own people. Juain would have to try not to think about that, the next time he sat down to lunch with one of the Order’s best intagoters.  
  
Garak. Julian blinked, They said they need to see **him**. He had thought they meant Commander Sisko. But given the odd nature of the trio that just walked out of there.  
  
“Don’t worry about it Dr. I’m on it.” Said Odo hurried out.

 


	3. Enemies Make Strange Bedfellows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julain's day just got a bit weirder. And someone unexpected is asking for the Caption.

Chapter 3.

  
Julian had had the whole cargo hold beamed over to the infamy-  and had taken care of the most severe patients himself. The Cardassians acted like it was some kind of loyalty test- he had never seen so many Cardassians so desperate to prove their loyalty to the state so loudly, but there was something in their eyes. 

These people weren’t broken, they meant what they said, only they all seemed to mean something else when they said it, former supporters of the failed civilian state?  Members of the military?  He could not be sure. Some of them spoke politely even to his Bajorin staff to his staff but guardedly, ignoring them completely when not being asked medical questions, some of them wouldn't even answer that much. The non-Cardassians appeared to be taken from Federation colonized for the most part but he did not think the were all marquee- supporters maybe?”   
  
“Is Ben still here?” 

Julian sound around to find much to his utter amazement… “Commander Hudson??”

“Please call me Cal. I resigned my commission. And If he is, you need to get him down here…”   
“What is going on _now_?” Juain mumbled in bewilderment.    
  
“What’s going on now is that Cardasssia is about to make the worst mistake in her history… and they wondered why I refused to go with them.” A woman’s voice.    
“Dr. Lang?” Julian choked staring at her. Her hair was unquiffed; she had lost weight and her face was bruised, but she was a poised as ever.

  
“No.” Said another voice. It appeared to be that of a much diminished Gul Evek, “That was allowing Dukat to hand Cardassia over to the Domain in the First place.”  
  
“Invasion,” Said  a young man… he looked familiar … but older…

  
“Rugle?!”   


“Makes for such strange bedfellows.”

 


	4. Blood on the Walls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A string speech. A great honor. A rather unexpected act of revenge.

Chapter 4

Garak’s day had not gotten any better. The continuous assault on the station's hull was giving him a headache and he had just gotten a frantic message from an old subordinate. Or supposed message- Unless Sekeska had cloned herself or had been duplicated in a transporter accident there was no way she could have sent this message- short of having gone to the future and then come back and left it pre-recorded. It was on a standard Order encryption, not even broadcast to him specifically. “They are coming, don’t act surprised.”

For all he knew, that signal could have been bounced around for years now. But the noise, and the explosions and the occasional body falling off the second level promenade were almost a regular occurrences these days.

He pondered the message as he singled for a med team to come to that aid of a young Bajoran security officer who was laid out in front of his shop's door from just such a fall. “Really this is the fourth time in the last six years! I’m beginning to think you are me trying to get my attention.” He batted his eyes, amused the man’s baleful stare.

Truthfully, when it came to interspecies mating a Bajoran wasn't really his first choice. There was usually someone else around who was less likely to kill him. And the few he would have considered- well there were only one, remained oblivious and she only had eyes for the constable, and he did not think it was a good idea to become entangled with one of his best customers. And as for the the non-Bajorin's… well he was never going to get that man’s attention.

It was painfully ironic that those working for Obsidian Order, the Guardians of Cardassia's greatest values- were the very ones denied a family. Even, Elim reflected, if they technically had one.

 _Well, Zyail loves you…..Zyail’s a *child_ * he reminded himself, even if she was not the daughter of his worst enemy, even if she wasn't half his age or more- she was too naive, and he had far, far, far too many enemies to consider having a real family. Besides, young girls saught spouses not lovers. The Medics came, but slowly, there weren’t a lot of people injured, at least not yet,

but there Elim noticed, with some alarm, that there were not a lot of Medics to be found either. That did not bode well for anyone on the station, and if his main concern was for himself, well Zyail, Dr. Basher, and Odo were not far behind, It was strangely disheartening to realize just how many people on this station he would miss if they died. he was getting weak. Sentimental.

Still, as distracted as he was, he still managed to see the lone figures walking towards him (followed by Odo at a discreet, a little too discreet, distance.) Walking against the flow the security engineers and medics as well as civilians, who could be seen even now, scrambling for safe cover on the Promenade.

But then, of course, it would have been very hard to miss them, and not just because were fellow Cardassians. He recognized these people almost all of them, he could think of several reasons why each would want him dead.

Still, the boy had had his chance, twice in fact, if he had wanted his revenge he might have taken it then. On the other hand, he might have misjudged Uvane perhaps he was the type the hold-off and vengeance until his enemy was in a weakened state.

That almost made him laugh, weakened state?The boy, man now, could hardly stand. It seemed to do did nothing to slow his approach however even if he were practically crawling.

Elim studied them further; cool calm and collected walking purposely towards him, Trinis Vermor seemed almost oblivious to the explosions going on around him, or even aware that he was anywhere but home ground. Only the slightest flicker of his eyes give any hint, that he had never set foot off is planet before today, let alone outside of Cardassia’s borders. He was dressed impeccably in a blue suit as unruffled as he was. The man met his eye just giving him a sharp appraisal and an almost imperceptible nod. As of to say _“Target Acquired.”_

He had met only Vermor twice. At his initial interview, after Vemor’s application had been sent in to the order. Garak himself had found it shocking that he had gotten even that far, considering the applicant’s brother had been one of those killed in that… regrettable incident.

What had started out as a technically legal gathering had turned into what had at that time been the worst civil disruption in the history of modern Cardassia. More than 200 colonists dead, many of them bystanders and children. No one, not even Tain could ever cast the full measure of blame on anyone, the whole system had broken down on every and all levels.

Vermor, who had lost both his only brother and a great many of schoolmates in the whole affair had told Garak that the carnage had only increased his resolve to join the Order. “Everyone panicked, everyone lost their heads,no one stopped to take the time to fully analyze the situation. And Arjata is a small colony, what if it had happened on Prime?”

Vermor had also confessed to him that the initial attraction for him had been to get a chance to travel, see the universe. Arjata was a small farming community,a former penal colony on a class L planet, whose economy ran solely on kannar production.

No one left except to join the military, and no one ever stayed away. In truth no one ever visited either, except cargo ship owned and operated by the same families who had owned and operated them for generations. Vermor like half the residents had grown up working in the vineyards owned by Uvane’s Uncle.

The fellow had taken to keeping track of the political situation on every front, border or reach in Cardassia’s influence. And had impressed Garak greatly with his keenly sharp analysts that rested on data rather than propaganda, calmly and unchallengigaly making his pronouncements based on his own deductions, not what he thought Elaim wanted to hear.

He had done so without fear or egotism, and Garak knew it would be a great loss not to at least allow him to be trained. Still, no one had been fool enough to assign Vemor anywhere other than his home office, even for training. Vermor quickly gained fame within the organization for his skills as an analysis, and a reputation for avoiding internal politics, and respected rather than feared by his peers- a rare feat.

By the age of twenty-five he was head of the Aratja field office, where he gained a reputation for his light-handed but strangely effective interrogation techniques.

The next time they had met it was at a high level meeting of the Tapoca Council where the young man gave testimony in favor of a bill to limit the use of torture on Cardassian citizens, claiming that while it was at times warranted, in general, it slowed the integration and produced much less effective results. He had been brought in as shill, but clearly believed what he said. He was outnumber both by other agents and members of local security stations. The Council afraid to act one way or another or another had ended up tabling the discussion, and Garak has seen to it that Vemor had advanced no further in the organization, as he suspected the fellow simply did not have the stomach for inflicting pain, a necessary part of the job description.

He was regretting it now though. Vemor eyes were cold and focussed; Garak knew he could match the fellows’ and then some. But seeing that much resolve coming at you was cause to be alert if nothing else. Walking opposite to Vermor, was a fellow he did not know, though he could read his demeanor and occupation well enough by his gate, and unconscious tendency to try to take point as the three walked unison, causing Uvane, the habitual wounded, to let out a muffled cry or grown here and there. And much to Garak’s surprise disappoint the occasional curse word. Uvane had been such a well mannered, polite individual when they had met, even going so far as  to beg a rag to wipe his own blood off the floor and table so none of the maintenance staff would have to do it themselves.

Bur why were they all here together? What kind of company consisted of a well-dressed operative,a military officer and is his night clothes, and a once again profusely bleeding exiled street musician?

It was the musician that held Garak most immediate attention. He cocked his head to one side. Former prisoners did not simply show up at your shop front to chat

 Had he shown up simply to mock Garak in his own exile? That he would not put pasted Uvane, who just like Garak himself had a dark streak just under his affable surface. The three reached the edge of the shop just as the medics lifted the security officer on to a gurney and whisked him away. The blasts were getting more and more intense. Uvane was dropped rather heavily, after seeing that he had not the strength to rise of his own accord, he merely sat on the ground opposite Garak cross-legged, fumbling around in the pocket of his oversized (and severely out of style) purple jacket.

It was the very same one he had worn when he had shown up at a field office demanding to speak to an agent so that he could make a confession. The confession had been genuine, unfortunately for the then-teenage fugitive, so had been the manifesto that had gone with it. After a very long minute, Uvane pulled out what might have been a recording device- or some sort of handheld transmitter so old it had to be turned on by flipping a switch.

The three looked at one another. And at him. This went on for several moments, as if they had crossed the border, risked their lives, pulled the station into a firefight that was still going on all without any clear course of action.

Odo who had just m managed to catch up with them, looked down at the newcomers, his voice oddly mocking. “For people in a desperate hurry to see someone you seem awfully unwilling to say anything.”

Silence for a few moments more. They keep looking at Garak, with a sort of strange sort of fear in their eyes, as if they were hoping to see- or not to see, something with in him. Except for Uvane who held held his gaze steadily, his eyes revealing only earnest conviction, whatever they were about to do, the fellow believed in it with the full force of his being.

Garak managed not to look away himself, though hardly threating, there had always been something, well unnerving in Uvain’s gaze.

“I’m glad to see you well sir,” as if he were still a young man he bowed his head ever so slightly, in respect. “You look well.” *

 _And you still look absurd as ever in that old jaket, it looks even bigger on you now. Like you just walked out of a_ holonovel _set two centuries ago._ One with the safeties turned off.

“And you look… alive.”

“Not for lack of trying sir.”

“Oh I don’t doubt it.” The boy had been just shy of suicidal when Garak had met him, and if his actions since them were any indication,still was. “But I doubt you and your friends came here just to chat.”

“We just wanted to be the first to congratulate you.” His voice was excited but dignified, his face wore a vicious smile that one could only get by carrying out an act of extreme revenge, Garak was sure.

“Explain?” Eliam said cutting, and Uvane jumped in terror for a moment. His hand slightly upraised is if trying to ward off an expected blow.

“Just make the announcement,” the man in his nigh things growled. “This  _is_ your sole function in this operation.” Uvane switched on the device.“ I’m sorry to interrupt your work day- “ the single hit every monitor  on the station, “and I apologize to those working to subspace transmission stations- but this message is being transmitted on all except emergency channels, thought out the quadrant, and into Gamma Quadrant as well.”

“Those of you who know my music, know that I stand forever against the unlawful tyranny of the so-called “Gul” Dukat, and his Dominion Masters. A few of you might recall my very public denouncement of him and the annexation he brought upon us six months ago when he offered me his patronage in exchange for betraying Cardassia like he did. I know I am not the only one out there who considers this a betarl.

But I also know that many of you are scared to come forward publicly. This message is not to shame you. This message is to give you hope, or at least make you aware that all is not quite lost. Not Quite yet. You know that Dukat killed many faithful members of our government, not just from newly formed Cillvain Government, but from the old Military one as well. Not only those who stood against him, not only those who sensing the duplicity within him, but anyone whom he even suspected might be a threat to him.”

There was something about the way Unvane was speaking, a deep passion, word choice that turned the attention ever on Dukat, ever on his betrayal rather than drawing attention to the speaker. His words took on a humble tone and his face showed that humility. “It’s easy to think your alone, or that the Dominion, whether you like them or not is the best option. The only option. It’s easy to let your fear override you sense.

I know it did mine when I was in custody, six months of torment for refusing to be a Dominion puppet. Maybe you fear that you will share that fate. But do you know what I found in that prison? Other resistors. From all walks of life, Drs., Waiters, Military men, politicians’ even the spare Obsidian Order agent or two, dissident supporters. All of them living with the same uncertainty and fear we all have. I’ll be honest they all have reason to hate one another, to sabotage one another, to destroy one another. But all of them love Cardassia more than anything else, all of them know that we need everyone everyone to force out the Dominion, to take back the home which we have lost so much blood for in these last years.”

The station rocked, and rocked, Isben Uvane was lying face down over the transporter,making no attempt to steady it, his face now covered in blood, the monitors around the station make the whole affair seem… almost heroic. “That’s why we have gather what was left of the government, in all its incarnations. That is why we have established that government. Surviving top ranking military members, led by Gul Eveik, have joined forces with civilian leaders lead by none other than Kotan Pa’dar, and Netimia Lang themselves, to re-form our government here in exile.

Public leaders who gained their rank honorably and by tending to the ture needs of Cardassia, not their own selfish and capacious desires.”

Garak almost laughed, it was, like everything that had ever come out of Isben Uvane’s mouth both charming and romantic, and utterly impossible. But as always he believed it every word. He was almost as bad as the good Dr.when it came to idealism; maybe worse. Isben had a natural yet somehow unassuming charisma, the more passionate he got about a subject the more you pondered what you yourself could do to solve it. Isben Uvaine never posed himself as a leader, dearing to the listener to see themselves being the champion of the cause, to see themselfs as being vital, nedownrightown right irreplaceable.

Right now his face was strewn with tears as he talked, “Dukat has caught wind of this fact, his ships chased us halfway to the former DMZ, rather then letting us get this mission out to you, he has attacked the federation installation of Deep Space Nine, and risked putting us into another war with their newly re-formed allies, the Kilgions. Do you think the Dominion will be sending Jem'hadar out to fight? It’s Cardassia who will be fighting if this is allowed to happen. Fighting to expand Dominion borders not to protect our homes and families.”

The transmitter flew out of his hands and Garak caught it instinctively. That proved to be perhaps the greatest fault of his life. As soon as he glanced at it, Uvane spoke over him. “The man you are looking at is named Elim Garak, one of the finest men I have ever known, no one loves Cardassia more than he dose, and no one is willing to fight for it more than he. A foe of Dukat’s from the beginning, and the highest ranking member left alive of Cardassian Intelligence. That is why the New Council have appointed him interim chief of State.”

To Garak's credit he was able to keep the surprise out of his face. This was the man’s revenge? To force him to choose between risking his not just his life from Dukat and the Dominion but from all the other factions as well, for a hopeless cause, or to decline and leave Cardasia without any fighting strength left? They might have survived without a government in exile, but now that the idea was planted in their mind- his refusal would destroy their moral completely. They really would belive there was no leaders left to fight for Cardassia.

“It is an honor to be called upon to serve Cardassia again, and an obligation to see it set free.” He managed to say. The Man in his night close to back the transmitter and shut it off- the station stopped rocking. Apparently, they had failed in their mission, and there was no point in taking further losses.

Uvane tried to sit up, but slipped on the gathering pool of his own blood. “Got a Rag?” he muttered, “I would hate to make a mess.”

“Odo to ops, one to beam to the infirmary, before this man bleeds to death.”

"But later," Garak said through gritted teeth. "You and I are going to have a very  _long_ talk.


	5. The Chime of 13 Clocks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exactly how does one go about creating a government in exile anyway? And is there a limit to how much Klingon Coffe Captian Sico can safely consume? If its true what they say, that the perfect compromise s one where nobody is happy, well then Maybe Garak is off to a good start.

Chapter 5

Benjamin Sisco sat in his office rubbing his temples, at this point the only thing that could make his day any worse was the highly unlikely combination of Ki Wyn, Gul Dukat, and a borg sphere all showing up at once but considering the way this day was going he wasn’t deming that to be totally out of the question.

“Explain this to me again,” he said placing his ractijno besides him, he had been sitting here for all of five minutes and already he had drained the glass.

His ward room was so full that some cases there was standing room only, despite a statement of unity form a spokesman who was convenity absent at the moment, the group before him seemed to be divided into three camps four if you counted Cal and the Marque. (Why they were present was anyone's guess.) 

To the left of him sat Kotan Padar, followed immediately by Rugle, who kept looking at him oddly- no wonder really, more uncomfortable however, was the way Natima Lang was refusing to look at him. Well he could not blame her he had been ready to hand her and her students over to the Cardassian Athoirtys- he had not wanted to but in the end this *was* a Bajorin Station. 

Her students Hoge and Rekelen we not present, but there were about five other young people standing besides her and Padar.

On the right side sat Gul Evek- Sisco had never liked the man but he was not the worst member of the Cardassian central Command he had ever had to deal with. He himself was accompanied by about ten others, including a young woman who look barely old enough to have enlisted.

Facing him was Garak, who looked for once rather uniervered. Besides him was a smartly dressed man in a blue suit, a man in a nightgown, and several others standing besides them- the man in the suit had just finished directing traffic- everyone was to the *side* of Garak. No one was allowed behind him. But if these men were his personal bodyguards then they clearly had yet to prove themself to their new commander yet,if the look on the tailor face when they bushed passed him was any indication.  
Right now Sisco would have offered Quark five-one odds that Garak would have rather spent the afternoon locked in a trunk then between these men.

“As I said Commander we would only be staying here for as long as it takes to find ourselves a permanent base of our own. But anyone escaping the Dimmion is most likely to fly by you station anyway. In exchange for sheltering us we will provide member of our own forces to defend you station.” Padar said again.

“Defend it?! You nearly tore it apart. And you forces consist of 25 wounded men and a spaceship our Chief of Operations isn’t even sure he can sell for scraps let alone salvage.”

“We have every confidence that others will come, Captain.”

“But no assurances?” Benjamin pointed out.

“Certain members of or colleges are do to arrive in the tomorrow morning if not sooner. My cowarks grew suspicious of my activities and those of us from the Ajara detection center were forced to move up our plans. I should never have hired an off worlder. They are all paranoyd.” This was from the man in blue.

“You say it like you were the one *held* in there!” Snarled Rugle hotly. The man pivoted- but any words were cut short by the arrival of yet another Cardassian. “You might have waited,” he said as he slipped thru the door, and then stopped looking from one end of the room to another as if unsure what camp he was supposed to belong to. The man in blue shot him a hard glance of reproach (hard enough to make even Sicko almost squarm- almost) and then nodded to the space behind him. Apparently there was one person he trusted no to put a knife in to Garaks back. After a moment he recognized him from the transmission, he was still covered in blood but looked quite a bit better otherwise.

“I apologize for pirating you subspace channels- but it’s been my experience that it’s easier to take over all channels at once then it is one one or two. Or rather it’s harder for someone to block the transmissions that way. I’m still surprised no one managed to jam it.”

The man in blue looked back at Sico, “And we had to leave a few behind to accomplish that.”

“And you Garak? What is your take on all of this,” that statement he knew was cruel as he was sure Garak had certainly not been expecting anything that happened today- but that did not mean he was not directly involved with the original plan. Well if he *did* want to be Cardassia’s leader he had better learn to deal with this fast.

Of all the people the could have chosen, Lang, Gehmore, even Evek they went *Garak*?! Well he had all the character traits of an totalitarian head of state, cold, ruthless, and the consummate liar, a man with shockingly little regard for life. 

But the man in the bloody coat was right Sisco had never met a Cardassian more in love with the state then Elim Garak. He certainly not the leader Cardassia needed at the moment, but he sure as *hell* was the one they deserved.

“I realize Caption,” Garak said at last, “That you might be tempted to see this strictly as an internal matter.”

“You’d be right.”

“But Capitan nothing could be further from the truth. Right now the Federation is still reeling from the war with the klingons, and a recent borg invasion. If you endorse our efforts you will not only have valuable allies but you will be giving millions of Cardasias a reason to believe that the Dominion is *not* their future, and that they are not being asked to hold the front line agents the Jem'hadar alone.”

“Enemies make danrouse friends.” Benjamin pointed out.

Garak almost gaped to see the old proverb thrown back at him. “Even with the peace treaty I am not sure the council of Ministers down on Bajor would approve this. The war is to fresh on everyone's mind theirs- and yours.”

“Yes it *is* a Bajorin station,” said Lang pointly. Almost his exact words when he had nearly handed her over to his death. “But if I recall they seem open to negotiation.”

“And what would that want?” demanded the female military officer, G’d she couldn’t have been more than twenty, maybe younger.

“War Criminals,” suggested Rugle a smile playing on his face, “They help us and we promise give them everyone that’s still on their list and alive at the end of the war. Oh and that none of our people will go down to the planet without permission.”

Sisco knew the idea had merritt right away. The look on everyone's face told him they all knew it too. And not a single Cardassian was happy about that fact.

“If they let us stay,” said the late commer, “*I’ll* testify myself. At least to the things I witnessed.”

Furrriouse eyes trunded twards him from all direactions. “I also have the names of many individuals involved in these actions that are not on their lists, not just military bust civilian and Order too. And if you think for a *heartbeat* that I won’t turn them all over to save Cardassia, you are dangerously mistaken.

*Cardassia* herself is at risk and if you are not ready sheed some pride, or admit to shame, if you are not willing to admit the wrongs that lead us to this point- well then you had better find a ride back home and beg Dukat for forgiveness. Maybe you’ll get lucky- maybe his put you right back in a detention center. Of course it probably won't be as carefully run Vemor’s was.”

Garak seemed to be weighting all his options, but the others had fallen silent. Sisco was not surprised the man might have trained under Cicero with the mastery of rhetoric he commanded. But the words, undoubtedly sincere and delivered impromptu too, still had an almost practiced feel, no not the words themself, the way he addressed the everyone there. *He’s reading the room,* Benjamin realized, *He’s not a politician, lawyer or even a grassroots activist- he a performer playing for the crowd.*

“Well,” the man asked very softly. “Anyone?”

No one stirred a mussel. 

“We will hand them over,” said Garak at last, raising a hand up before chaos could break out. “You *did* infact just name me as you head of state- and I know the Bajorin’s well enough to know that this may be the *only* thing that will allow us to stay here. However in the interest of fairness Captain we would like the all outcomes to be based on a joint committee,as well as all sentencing.”

“You hardly gave us that option.” Snapped a Bajorin woman from Cal’s side.

“We intend to address the matter of our justice system within the next few weeks.” said Lang briskly. “And I’d think you’ll agree it was doing us as much harm as anyone.”

Garak looked *quite* unhappy about that. 

“Professor Lang is more than happy to attempt to introduce her … radical socal ideas into this endeavor.” Evek snered. “We can try it now. If the will of the people is so important- then surely we can vote on this issue?”

“Yes but how does one actually do that?” Padar asked, “I mean I know how *voting* works- for a counsel- but this is a decision that will affect all of Cardassia. And we can’t exactly take a poll of public opinion at the moment.”

“Ah on *that*,” Said Garak, eyes twinkling, a little, “I have become quite knowledgeable- I believe everyone with in a faction makes their opinion known to their leaders, and then the leaders of each faction bring them to a meeting and the decision is made by consensus.”

“Are you *sure* that’s right?” asked a member of Lang’s “faction” her eyebrows forming into a knott. “It seems complicated.” 

“Shouldn't we just do it by shere numbers without breaking things down by affiliation?” asked someone somewhere in the room.

“That would be pure anarchy! The state would fall every other day- you can’t trust civilians to follow through on anything-- they don’t have this disapalent! You might as well make legal code by drawing lots!”

“Who said we had to be a democracy?”

“Uh captain,” said the main in his nightshirt, trying to speak “Do you mind enlightening us?”

“I’m afraid,” Sisco said with a bit of a grin. “I can’t. This *is* purely an internal matter- and the last thing Cardassia needs right now is for a Starfleet officer to be influencing the foundation of you governance in anyway. But Just between us you're off to a good start. 

The meeting had started at 1520 hours station time. Sisco didn’t want to stay- but he knew he had to. This was either going to be one of the most historic moments in the history of the quadrant, there was going to be blood on the station floor. 

As commander of DS9 he had had disappointedly few frist contacts and fewer still that ended well.And he had no idea how to count his encounters with the Prophets in that regard. His most impressive diplomatic achievement had been reaffirming a treaty that had already existed, (after, arguably, being the one who had caused it to break in the first place.) 

Maybe this would be different- either way both the Bajorins and Starfleet Command would want a full report.

At 0950 hours station time the Cardassian Government in Exile passed its first measure; that they were in fact the legitimate government, that they were set up to oppise Dukat. That in an effort to maintain stability the government was to be divided into three parts, civilian, military, and intelligence. Each Division would vote their own head, who would then belong to a tribunal of leaders over seen by a Head of state who was not aloud to be the head of any faction wherever they might have come from. Articles of governance could only come from the part of the state that would cover these matters- but it had to had to be voted and approved by at each faction in the government, and then the Head of that Division would carry the vote. But the head of state could override one vote of the Council but not the other two. 

They declared that this government- all though although the only legitimate government would only last until something more permanent could be devised after the war- and at that time the framework could be revisited.

At 1200 hours the New Cardassian Government amended their previous declaration to style the Head of state “The Castellan” a term not used on Cardassia since the fall of it’s second republic. They proved no ground work as to how a Castellan was chosen, the length their office, nor if and how they could be disposed of. 

Then at 1500 hours, they quietly went threw two rounds of voting, and even more quietly approved a measure to turn Carassian’s accused of war crimes over to a join task force lead by Cardassia and Bajor- after the war. Exchange for being aloud to set up a base of operations in Bajorin space.

By this time Sisco had been up for nearly two days, and was seriously starting to doubt he could safely consume any more Ratjeno without his heart exploding.

The new government’s start had been rocky, rocus, and chaotic, it was clear that every person in that room had their doubts about it. About fighting the dominion. About the awesome responsibility of designing a burgining state. They clearly had no idea what they were doing, and most saw it as an ad hoc endeavor to be rid of later. Some were no doubt in it for political gain, some for glory. No one was happy with the outcome, but no one had left the endeavor either.

It was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen. 

“Will you do us the courtesy of passing on our request to the… locals?” Asked Evek.

“I trust it won't be to much of a burden?” added Garak.

“Gentlemen, I’d consider it an honor.” He picked up the pad. And so it was, that Sisco landed on Bajor a few hours later, still groggy and steeped in to the Chamber of Ministers. “Forgive the interruption, but I felt it necessary to deliver this request by hand.”

First Minister Shakaar managed to take the PADD from his hand and lead in him to a chair before, the Emissary of the Prophets passed out exhausted on the floor.


End file.
